


Bullet Holes and Gun Powder Residue

by The_8th_Arrow



Series: Mr. & Mr. Nikiforov [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Established Relationship, Hitman AU, Hitman!Viktor, Hitman!Yuuri, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Characters shall be added with progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-03-11 01:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13514355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_8th_Arrow/pseuds/The_8th_Arrow
Summary: A peek into the lives of our favorite duo and a few others.(Previously named Engraved in our Time)





	1. Behind closed doors

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, a tribute to the series, [Mr. & Mr. Nikiforov](http://archiveofourown.org/series/715698), and it's many unfinished drafts in my folder. I am starting to clean them ;)
> 
> Updates are erratic due to IRL schedule.

“You were following me.” The man states more than asking. He knows what is happening around him and it saves Viktor the time for any explanations other than his purpose. Indeed, he has been following him. From the antechamber to the hotel bar and to a deserted function room. “Why?”

Viktor looks over his shoulder and smiles charmingly. Not really intimidated by the situation despite the gun pointed straight at him. Déjà vu, right? It’s not the first time he is at gunpoint. Those chocolate doe eyes are focused and the man who owns them is determined to keep him rooted to where he is standing.

“Would you believe me if I say I find you utterly captivating? It’s hard to keep my distance away from you when you do magic with your work.” Sweet talking is his specialty. A little trick he has perfected since long ago and has earned him a little more than coy smiles and disguised invitations over the years.

From most of the people who are not immune to his methods, anyway.

“In other words, you were watching me.” Well, there goes the sweet talk. The man _is_ immune to it. “You probably know what I do, mundane as it is.”

“Conducting conversations and niceties with your patrons while strategically ensuring their comfort and safety at the same time is never mundane.” Viktor starts to turn around, holding his arms up in surrender as he takes a slight step forward. The man takes a similar one towards him in return.

“Anyone can do that.” He has a point, a point accentuated with a slight tilt of his head to the side which is a terribly charming gesture. The real charm, however, is the few centimeters of skin being shown off just above the collar of his bespoke suit and Viktor does not know whether it makes everything better or worse. Nevertheless, it is a tempting sight.

“Yes, and so is following orders from your superiors, am I right?” He purrs, excitement pouring in his nerves as they take one step closer and closer to each other like the opposites of a magnet. “Surely, irrevocably. Obediently.”

They take steps per every step until they meet in the middle. The barrel of the gun digs on his sternum but he does not mind it. Viktor is too focused on the pair of eyes currently stuck on his face like they are looking for any signs of deception or malice that will harm him.

“If he asks you to take your clothes off in front of him, you will do it. If he asks you to swallow the pill right off the bat, you will do it.” Viktor leans in closer, looming over and deliberately making him look bigger and intimidating.

The other man visibly swallows, possibly feeling threatened now but had no choice but to stay in his place so as to show some bravery. “What about it?”

Viktor takes a moment of silence to stare at the man and gauge his reaction because he is enjoying this too much than he had hoped for. It must be due to the person he is talking to or the fact that the only thing that is pinning him on his spot is those pair of fiery brown eyes and not the gun he was holding earlier.

For a man of his stature, he sure can command him with little presence. It is the reason why this person is a prominent figure in name that the mere drop of his moniker would make someone shiver. Viktor hoped that he can have at least some control over him though because he is a possessive man and this gorgeous being standing in front of him is his.

“Nothing. I am only curious why Phoenix chose to show himself in front of these people of all days he could be within the warmth of his nest. What if something unexpected would happen and he is suddenly left indisposed?”

Yuuri fixes him a look of disbelief and lowers his gun. Oh, that’s anticlimactic. Viktor only manages to open his mouth in protest but the other already beat him to it. “You’re not exactly threatening if that’s what you’re pointing at.”

How savage! He lowers his arms now, a pout visible on his face. “Is that how you see me?”

One dark brow arches in question and Viktor’s thoughts screeches to a stop. There is a fire burning in those brown eyes, a fire Viktor is very familiar with all these years of connecting with this man.

“Would you really like to know how _I_ see you?” He asks with a quirk of his mouth and a half-lidded sweep of his eyes over Viktor’s form. There’s an innuendo in there which Yuuri seldom uses outside their home and the older man could not help expressing his excitement through his smile.

“Well.” Viktor makes a show of fixing the lapels of his jacket and his cuffs. “I’d like to venture a guess.”

His answer makes the smile on Yuuri’s lips broaden and Yuuri brings his hand up to his neck to pull him down to his level, their noses almost touching. “That’s right, Mr. Nikiforov. I’m sure you know how handsome you are today.”

“I should say the same thing about you, Mr. Nikiforov.” Viktor purrs as he closes the gap and presses his lips against Yuuri’s. “Your ensemble highlights your natural sensuality. Especially, your tie… is it new?”

“You like it? My husband got it for me for my birthday.” A twinkle of mischief shines in Yuuri’s eyes as they gaze up at his husband and it only makes Viktor’s heart leap with every gesture and words.

“Your husband has taste. It suits you well.” Of course, Viktor knows. He got it for Yuuri himself while he was in France on a mission, remembering that it would be his beloved’s birthday in a few weeks by the time he came home. The tie, silky dark blue, definitely adds a splash of color in Yuuri’s entire suit as well as his wrists. It is a welcomed memory, a memory that he would like to reenact in the near future if it’s permitted. Then again, he has a thing for feisty Yuuri.

For now, this little escapade of theirs shall satisfy his craving for his other half.

Viktor leans forward and purrs against his ear. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be here? Won’t your _Papa_ miss you in your absence?”

“He won’t mind. After all, I’m only a lowly _cugine_ who wags his tail to wise asses for a treat.”

Viktor leans back to look at him in the eye and notices a flash of irritation in his husband’s eyes. Something along those lines lights a fire in him and he takes a sharp intake of breath at the sudden onslaught of fury in his chest. It’s like being insulted ten times worse whenever someone talks to Yuuri like that.

“He didn’t say that to you, did he?” Brown eyes turn away and only when he nudges a finger up his chin do they go back into staring up at his own blue ones. “Tell me.”

“No. It’s the new ones talking.” The man before him smiles at the overprotective tone and croons in appreciation of the endearing action. “Imagine: an associate being vouched by two… highly esteemed figures to join them in their _tea party_. What will the boys think about that?”

“Well, nothing malicious, I suppose. I’m sure they would act civilly in your presence and should learn to hold their tongue like the good dogs they are. Otherwise, someone should put them in their places, hm?” Viktor returns the smile, thumb brushing ever so lightly on the soft skin of the other’s chin.

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” He tilts his head in a silent demand and Viktor, catching wind of the small action, leans in to press his lips against the other in a chaste kiss.

“I do not doubt that, my love. Even I know how fearsome your skills and capabilities are. You are beyond their reach.”

“Mm. And you are telling me this because I won last week’s one-on-one?”

“My Yuuri is cheeky.” Viktor keeps a firm hold of him with an arm around his waist while he playfully nips at the skin below Yuuri’s ear, causing a small yelp followed by a bubbly laugh from the man. “It’s because I know _my_ husband is scary when he clings so stubbornly onto something.”

“It’s because you won’t let me out of your arms for a minute and I only want to get my ice cream – _stop that_.” Oh god, he feels a delicious prickly rub against his neck which means Viktor has not gotten his morning shave and it tickles!

“In my defense, it’s very hard to let you go when you are so soft and warm...”

“Viktor _Alexander_ Vasilyovich Nikiforov.” Yuuri admonishes quietly. Viktor’s brows immediately rise at the obvious warning and retreats from his neck to look at him, attention snapping back. His Yuuri only uses his _full_ name (and in public, too) when he is serious about something. “I’m in the middle of work. Continue doing that and there will be consequences, mister.”

Consequences? Now, that is definitely worth getting his attention. “What kind of consequences are we talking about?”

“Something along the line of…” Yuuri flicks his gaze up and smiles innocently at him. “…couch.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Yes, I would.”

“You never put me on the couch before.”

“This will be the first time.”

“Yuuri…!” The older man whines, his lower lip wobbling just a little, and Yuuri nearly pulls him into a hug at that.

Instead, he places a chaste kiss on his husband’s lips and then another to wipe that pout away. It is all that Viktor needs to pull his beloved to him once more, planting his mouth firmly against the other and mouthing his promise that he will let him go back to his station as soon as they both have their fill of each other’s presence (which is sadly not enough).

“By the way, what are you doing here?” Yuuri manages to (disappointingly) extricate himself from the wonderfully satisfying kissing session they had. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Yes, but I’m done for the day so I came to drop by your lunch.” More like drop by via parachute and expertly landing on the hotel's helipad. 

“…are you for real?”

“As real as I can be. I believe we have established that for more than half a decade.”

“And you made food enough for… three?”

“I am very well-informed, you see. It’s not as if Dino is a stranger to us.” He winks at the flabbergasted expression of his husband. “And having tea and sandwich all day is enough to ruin your appetite later in the evening so make sure you eat the share that I painstakingly made for you.”

“Oh, I bet they are delicious.” To see Yuuri’s unrivaled smile ever so brilliantly turned to him makes all the effort of delivering his token of affection all worthwhile. It is an easy task for Viktor to present the fruit of his hard work to him but with the current situation, it is easier said than done because it’s not only Yuuri with whom he has an agenda with.

Presenting a formal black and red stacked bento box wrapped in delicate purple and gold furoshiki to his husband’s colleagues is like presenting his existence to them, like a wife to one’s husband.

Viktor might or might not have blushed at the idea.


	2. Motorcycle guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri: _jfc pls don't-_  
>  Me: ***reveals a few things***

Phichit wags a finger towards his three companions of the night and grins harder than normal. With their glasses refilled once more and ready for consumption, it’s understandable where their group’s joyful air is coming from.

Of course, whenever it is Yuuri’s birthday, any party is always fun. It just so happens that it is getting late and the rest of the guests went their separate ways until it’s only the four of them remaining. Since no one is keen on getting home soon (mainly, Phichit and Chris already secured rooms for themselves in the Nikiforov house), they continue the fun with a few rounds of games.

“Never have I ever ridden a motorcycle.” Phichit hiccups. A round of laughter comes shortly until all three persons pluck their shot glasses from the middle table.

“Never have I ever heard anything so common. It’s an easy one.” Chris is about to tilt his shot glass to his lips when Phichit puts a hand up to stop him.

“Is it? Let me rephrase…” Phichit giggles uncontrollably, eyeing Yuuri with a loaded gaze that makes the other raise an eyebrow from his perch on Viktor’s lap. “Never have I ever ridden _anyone_ on a motorcycle and this also applies to the other way around.”

Chris immediately replaces his full glass on the table like it has poison and Viktor runs a hand through his hair.

“Now, that… even I haven’t done that in all the comparably smaller exposure I had.” The blond chuckles nervously as he gestures his amazement at the choice of words for the game. When it comes down to fun and games, Phichit makes his way to the top.

“That would be pretty crazy but it’s giving me ideas. Don’t you think so, Yuuri – ?” Viktor’s grin disappears when he turns to look at his husband in his arms.

Yuuri has just finished downing his shot and replacing the empty glass on the table without much of a noise. Phichit starts to laugh, Chris is whistling in amazement, and Viktor has become a sputtering statue beside him.

“Oh my god. So, it’s true!” Phichit is now downright hollering and holding his stomach as he laughs.

“It’s only one time…” Yuuri shrugs his shoulders in his defense and trying to look normal despite the attention he is getting. He should have known Phichit is planning on something but he isn’t expecting him to touch one of his deepest and darkest secrets to their friends and his husband.

Speaking of his husband, Viktor looks like he is about to pounce on him and the grip he has on his waist turns possessive. The older man clings to his side and begins to nuzzle his cheek in silence.

Of course, Yuuri’s best friend is not his best friend when he does not ask further information about it. He will have to remind himself to extract revenge soon when Phichit least expects. “So, let me get this straight. When motorcycle guy asked you to test his engines, he didn’t mean –”

“I’m not telling you anything.” Yuuri remains unfazed despite the blush spreading down to his neck.

“Don’t have to. I remember those days like the fur spots of my hamsters.” Phichit hums while waving his hand in emphasis. “Young Yuuri dresses like an innocent college angel by day and punk rock devil by night. Imagine all those dudes thought they could handle you but you showed them who is boss. They couldn’t even say no to your plush leather covered ass.”

Viktor whimpers at that. The image generated in his mind is too much.

“I just have one question. Does he compare?” Chris pipes from his spot and jerks his thumb at Viktor’s direction. It earns him a glare from his best friend as soon as he shoots off his inquiry. No one compares  _the_ Mr. Nikiforov to anyone unworthy of Yuuri's attention and that also includes whoever this motorcycle guy is. Maybe, one day he ought to do some digging about this new information-

"Everyone knows the answer to that." Yuuri's thumb is soft and smooth on Viktor hand as he pulls it to his lips and kisses the golden ring sitting charmingly on his finger. The older man is suddenly overcome with the urge to shower him with affection behind closed doors.

“Hm, I don't know, darling. I'd like to reestablish the facts,” Viktor quips and his smile is too sweet which earned an amused chuckle from Chris and a smug smile from Phichit. "For good measure."

“If that is what you want then I'll make sure there is no room for questions. Ah, but for the record,” Yuuri pulls Viktor closer with a small tug of his lapels and whispers hotly to his ears. “The bike was big but it can’t possibly compare to you or your _engine performance_ for that matter.”

Shit.

“Right! Sleep time for the both of us now and – uh – you two know your way around, yes? You can leave the table as it is and we’ll clean it up tomorrow. Have a good night!” Viktor nearly chokes on his own spit for his hurried speech and makes a beeline for the master’s bedroom, Yuuri laughing in his arms as they go.

Phichit and Chris are left to stare at their retreating figures, a half bottle of booze and a bowl of chips still available for consumption.


	3. Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past online correspondence in the deep web involving Yuuri, Phichit, and someone else.
> 
> (And people think it's all serious and action-packed---)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found these lying in my drafts. It's from last year omg.
> 
> (Set before Yuuri regains his memories)  
> Possibly between 18-20 years old Yuuri. He and Phichit are two years apart btw.  
> Pls. see [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266341) for basic stats of people in this AU. It's constantly updated.

GN: drop unconfirmed. see anything?

PCbabe: ofc im not blind i see the sky the moon the stars the hunks in a clusterfuck

GN: asshoe

PCbabe: u love my ass my pets and my hoe

GN: tell me that again when ur better at blending in

PCbabe: u kno what else is blending

GN: what

PCbabe: officer brad in a muscle tank and kevlar at night

GN: hes hot i admit

GN: hes here isnt he

PCbabe: seems our drop will turn to a raid

GN: next loc

GN: ill tab the op

 

 

\----------

 

 

PCbabe: what would u do if officer brad and carter offers a sandwich to u

GN: tell me this is not what I think ur implying

PCbabe: im at a toilet rn im hot im thirsty im hunger

PCbabe: im implying

GN: im telling dad

PCbabe: its not against the house law

GN: no

GN: dont do it. we r not supposed to

PCbabe: u said i need to practice my persona plus i might find some intel

PCbabe: desperate time calls for desperate measures

GN: just cuz i said mr hung and mr fine ass doesnt mean samples

PCbabe: im not sampling im testing ur theory gtg

GN: bro no

 

PCbabe: i got goodies ull love

PCbabe: and ur right about mr hung and mr fine ass

PCbabe: u got taste

 

 

\----------

 

 

GN: do u think dad will find out about those tqla bottles

PCbabe: nop

PCbabe: u made the safe and kept it under his nose so its fine

[unauthorized username]DD: You might want to ask me why I wear steel toes all the time and find a better hiding place than under my carpet with a creaking floorboard at that.

PCbabe: It’s not a fashion statement?

GN: shit how did he get in here?

[unauthorized username]DD: A magician does not reveal his tricks. Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve done as well, Philip. Carter has a runaway mouth.

PCbabe: yea he wont shut up even when he is balls deep

GN: oh god

[unauthorized username]DD: Eugene, kitchen duty. Philip, house cleaning. By the way, you’re both grounded.

GN: but dad

PCbabe: aw man

 

 

\----------

 

 

PCbabe: whos DeathQueen

GN: why u ask

PCbabe: they forwarded you their contact info

PCbabe: its a private #

GN: ah

PCbabe: im not giving it to u til u tell me who

GN: s fine

GN: shes here anyway

PCbabe: here as in ur room?!?! we r on opn?? how??

PCbabe: wait she??? i thought ur gay

PCbabe: answer me Eugene thats an order

PCbabe: u better not be cheating on me

GN: ur not my bf

PCbabe: im ur bff it’s an exclusive relp

GN: I’m keeping eugene’s laptop for a while, eugene’s bff. It’s game time <3 – DeathQueen

PCbabe: excuse you?? i want my bff in one piece u hear me

 

 

\----------

 

 

DeathQueen: Same time next week G?

GN: sure

DeathQueen: What color are you wearing?

GN: navy blue why?

DeathQueen: To match my thong with your tie

GN: not this again

DeathQueen: You’ll love it

GN: its an undercover

GN: i need to act like i love it

DeathQueen: Yet you’re eying my ass while I was changing. Admit it.

DeathQueen: Next time I catch you, G, I’m tying you on the bed and I’m taking you

GN: no thank you

DeathQueen: Love you, too, honey~

 

 

\----------

 

 

DeathQueen: Hey, G?

GN: …yes?

DeathQueen: I just want to tell you how much I love you and how much I respect you and that I owe you if you help me with my problem

GN: thats too much but sure

GN: what can i help you with

DeathQueen: What’s your room password?

GN: why do you need my room pass

DeathQueen: I left my bra inside

GN: …why is your bra inside

GN: you said you can walk without anything under

GN: i am concerned about why its inside my room and what im saying to you rn

DeathQueen: I can. It’s just it’s an emergency and I need a secure place to change. You happen to be around. But you closed the windows earlier so I have no way of getting back there

DeathQueen: Also, there is a chip inside my bra that I’m supposed to be dropping and it’s very important than my life

GN: u have 15 mins chihoko

DeathQueen: Awww you’re so sweet!

 

 

\----------

 

 

GN: Chiho

DeathQueen: You only call me that when it’s personal

GN: it is

DeathQueen: What’s up

GN: i have a contract here and you r the only one i trust to take it

DeathQueen: Okay. I’ll take it.

GN: you havent heard the details yet

DeathQueen: Darling, we’ve known each other for years. We swore to help each other even on personal problems and I still owe you for that bra incident.

GN: ah yes that reminds me of that time

GN: but i still want to ask you

DeathQueen: Alright. Give me the details but my answer will stay the same

GN: ok

GN: ill get in touch w/ u soon

 

GN: care package drop 7P roselane garden female 9 black hair blue eyes pink dress yellow jacket + dox

GN: the sky is dark but the star is bright – i am the star

GN: thank you Chiho

 

[message encrypted]DeathQueen: Package received. Her name is Soraya Nigel and she wants to thank you, G.

[the username GN is no longer available]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some have questions. Ask them and I shall answer.


	4. Best friend policy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Viktor before Viktor's very first date (as a bachelor).

Viktor Nikiforov has a great taste in beauty.

His friends said so and everyone who saw him with a pretty thing in his arms does not doubt his choices.

He knows he has a great taste for beauty and he is going to say right now that he does have a great taste in beauty because the blushing man who he stumbled to in the middle of a crowded street is a thing of beauty and no one can tell him otherwise.

“He gave me a tissue. A two-ply soft as feather roll of tissue.” He wails over a glass of water (water!), a hand over his heart like the drama queen that he is.

“You had a very impressive lipstick stain on your neck.” Chris stops cleaning the bar to point an accusing finger towards his friend. “I don’t even need a scope to know what you’ve been up to in that hotel room.”

“It was part of the work, Chris. Work.” He might have casual flings left and right before but Viktor would like to differentiate between flings, work, and relationship. The first one, he had many. The second one is necessary. The third one is surprisingly but understandably lacking due to the nature of his occupation.

He sighs.

“I’d say you worked a good amount of sweat considering that you were limping in your walk of shame. Excuse me. I meant _run_ of shame.”

A wine bottle mysteriously keels over while Chris is passing a rag across the marble but he catches it on time before it shatters into millions of pieces. It would be a shame because this is a good bottle of vintage wine which he is putting out in honor of a date that is about to happen later. A date his friend is serious enough to take.

This is the first time in a long time he has known Viktor Nikiforov that the man is actually very seriously wooing someone. Having charged with supervising their date, Chris needs to bring the best food, the best music, and the best atmosphere he can possibly create to make his friend happy.

But first, Viktor is not getting away from his teasing anytime soon.

“It’s fate at work. If I hadn’t run, my ass would be rigged with bullet holes and I wouldn’t have met my future husband as he lands on my lap.” The Russian man visibly reddens at the thought of a memorable ass. Hmmm, as the best friend, he needs to meet this mysterious person Viktor is waxing poetic about.

“I can imagine what was going through his head when he first saw you. He must have thought –”

“That I can be the perfect future husband material for him?” With Viktor’s current lifestyle? Not a chance in hell.

“– that you’re a shameless casanova who can’t hide his kiss marks and who has the gall to flirt after what seemed to be a great adventure.”

“Chris!”

“It didn’t help that he fixed your look for you.”

“He groomed me and would you believe he has this very adorable blush while he helped me get rid of that lipstick stain? And when he tried to fix my hair, he’s really near and I can smell sandalwood on him.” Yep. Viktor is lost at this point. “He is so genuinely handsome, Chris.”

“I’m more surprised that he accepted your invitation tonight. What’s his name again?”

“Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki.”

Whoever this Yuuri Katsuki is, he is far braver than he thought someone could be upon meeting a man like Viktor. Viktor can be intimidating at first or simply a lunatic at times and people who do not know him that well will just bolt away or leave him after some fun.

However, if this man, Yuuri Katsuki, is destined for his best friend, then who is he to stop them?

He will have to have a tête-à-tête with the guy first before they go to first base.


	5. Yakov, Lilia, Viktor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short past chapter of Viktor.
> 
> This is the oldest hitman au that is sitting in my draft folder. I can't believe I just found it now!

**1.**

A boy no older than seven stands under his scrutiny.

Strands of starlight wrapped in a red wool scarf and surrounded by sprinkles of December snow makes the boy look ethereal rather than ordinary. Underneath the smudges of dirt and the swath of thin clothes, an angel looks up at him in an almost innocent way and yet such face is tinged with weariness and sadness that should not be there.

Round blue eyes blink up almost uncertainly when the boy becomes curious at the person in front of him but there is courage into those orbs that shot a slight amusement in Yakov’s lips. It’s not every day that someone can make him smile.

It is not uncommon to see vagrant children on the streets of Moscow. Some in pairs, some with an adult of the same status, and some are mostly alone. They make use of their time huddled around a steel can of burning trash in an alleyway away from prying eyes, warming their little hands and warding off the cold of the winter months. Others who still have the energy will roam around begging for alms or play with other children their age.

This one though kept on looking through a restaurant window as if it was the only thing that mattered.

Little feet covered in worn out boots shuffle slightly as they hold him upright and a pair of equally small hands held close to his chest for warmth, fingertips red from the cold. He kept hold of a single empty matchbox like a lifeline. Not one soul gave him a glance or attention as he peered over the window.

It was how Yakov found him: cold, alone, and surrounded by burnt matchsticks.

“It’s late. Where are your parents?” Yakov asks. His voice is gruff but the child does not mind at all and answers with a small shake of his head.

No parents. Lost? Abandoned? Dead? The questions are limitless but he asks anyway even when he cannot tell the details. At the very least, the boy is not afraid of him. Many said that Yakov appears intimidating and could make children cry at the first glance.

This one does not which is commendable.

“What are you doing here?”

The boy blinks at him before sliding his eyes to the matchbox in his hand then toward the glass window of the restaurant. On the other side is a table full of a delicious feast and sitting around it is a family consisting of a father, a mother, and their two happy children.

Whether the boy is looking at the table or the family, Yakov does not know but the child’s sad eyes are enough of an answer.

He takes the pirozhki he bought out from the bag he has been carrying and hands one to the boy in a quiet motion to eat.

 

 

**2.**

_“It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets…_

_…shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a picture of misery, poor little girl! The snowflakes fell on her long fair hair, which hung in pretty curls over her neck. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was a wonderful smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's Eve._

_…Her hands were almost dead with cold. Oh, how much one little match might warm her! If she could only take one from the box and rub it against the wall and warm her hands. She drew one out. _R-r-ratch!_  How it sputtered and burned! It made a warm, bright flame, like a little candle, as she held her hands over it; but it gave a strange light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she were sitting before a great iron stove with shining brass knobs and a brass cover. How wonderfully the fire burned! How comfortable it was! The youngster stretched out her feet to warm them too; then the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the burnt match in her hand._ _”_

_\- Den Lille Pige med Svovlstikkerne (1845)_

 

In another version of Hans Christian Anderson’s story, the little girl is a little boy who had no more matches to sell and no parents to go home to. He had smelled the wonderful roast and came wondering about in the streets on a New Year’s Eve. He had burned the matches to keep him warm and had seen beautiful things.

However, it was not the grandmother who neither took him in her arms nor flew with him in brightness and joy above the earth where there was neither cold nor hunger nor fear. Instead of following an old woman, the boy followed a middle aged man around until the man had no other choice but to take his hand.

Every step he takes, a whisper of a child’s feet would follow. Yakov does not need to turn around to know that the boy is following him like a stray cat that had been fed once. It has been quite a distance from the restaurant to the park but the boy is relentless and sticks to his shadow like glue.

He might not be able to get rid of him soon so Yakov does the only thing a responsible adult would do in this situation.

 

 

**3.**

“This isn’t what it looks like.” Yakov nearly stammers, his nervousness creeping up in his bones as he braces himself from the storm that is his wife.

Lilia Baranovskaya Feltsman stresses every day that she does not like late appointments whether it is work, casual meetings, or functions. She does not like the table waiting for its occupants to arrive thus making the food cold. It is rude to the host and we are not rude people, she says. Yakov had his share of late dinners. Most of the time, he does not escape his wife’s scolding and, once, he was given the cold treatment.

This time, he has a valid reason that is very far from work.

The boy is behind him, shielded away slightly by the train of his coat and from Lilia’s full gaze. Curious blue eyes glance around the entirety of the large foyer before settling on the woman’s willowy figure and her green orbs. He and Lilia lock gazes with each other, both unwavering.

“I can see that.” Her voice is strong yet smooth and it does not deter the young boy from becoming curious of her.

“Has he eaten?” She asks out of the blue. Her calculative eyes show no sign of the emotions brewing inside of her but she keeps them trained on the fearless boy behind her husband’s coat.

“He has. Gave him a couple of pirozhki when I found him.”

It seems to placate a certain nerve in her that there was a slight ease visible in the hard lines of her face. Yakov can see it. The moment when Lilia lets the motherly side of her personality bleed in her usually stern façade.

She kneels in front of the boy, tucking her skirt behind her knees, and held her hand towards him. “What is your name?”

The boy takes a few moments before reaching out and letting a shy heart-shaped smile appear on his lips.

“…Viktor.”

 

 

**4.**

Ever since Viktor came into their lives, every day seems to be a noisy business. Not that Yakov is complaining. He and Lilia are the only ones occupying their modest home and it was very quiet on most nights. Now that Viktor is here, there seems to be noise on every part of the house. There is laughter here, a small crash there, and a gasp of surprise on some days when the boy discovers something new.

Of course, Yakov is very willing to teach him new tricks but there are times when the boy’s energy far exceeds his own and he takes matters into his own hands. He is starting to show his independent nature.

He is far from the cold, homeless child found in the middle of the streets. No longer the thin and dirty boy who warms himself using the fire from matches. He already shed everything from his past and the only thing left is his first name, a name he is proud to have.

That and his insufferable naughty behavior apparently.

Yakov collapses on his favorite chair, the old Chesterfield still in a perfect state, in front of the fireplace. He is tired and sore from chasing Viktor around the house just to make sure he does not do anything stupid like coloring the hallway’s wallpaper or opening the spirits cabinet in his office.

“I’m not even sure why this is happening. Can’t he behave for once? I’m not his father, for goodness’ sake.” He grumbles, a hand rubbing the top of his balding head in misery.

“You sound like one though.” Lilia points out nonchalantly and drinks her tea.

Now, that brings an eyebrow up on Yakov’s forehead. The man becomes silent now with the sudden revelation he just heard. Sure, he had taken the boy under his wing, gave him food, clothes, and shelter, educated him as best as he can. He might or might not have an entire college fund already set up somewhere and might not have dread on teaching the boy how to drive a car when he is old enough.

He sounds like a father planning for his son’s future, doesn’t he?

“Hmph.” Yakov settles, a warm smile forming on his lips as he rests his tired muscles. “Don’t baby him like a mother then.”

“You are imagining things.” His wife quips.

Yes, and perhaps Yakov is imagining the little upward quirk of her lips when she stands from her chaise to go, saying something about checking someone’s oral hygiene before bedtime.

Who knows?

With Lilia, it can be anything.

 

 

**5.**

The first time Viktor learned how to defend himself, Yakov was nervous with the outcome of the small sparring especially when the boy easily mastered simple hand-to-hand combat and defeated kids of his age in an official match. It did not help that Lilia promoted the sport in order to teach the boy some discipline.

The first time Viktor showed a sign of his extraordinary perception was when they had an unnecessary trouble at home and Yakov wouldn’t know about it if not for the boy’s little comment about hearing a boot scrunching on snow by the windows. Then, it all became messy and all Yakov could think of at the time was to get Lilia and Viktor to safety.

The first time Viktor learned about the nature of Yakov’s work, Yakov was hit with a harsh foreboding when Viktor showed interest in becoming a professional killer after a lot of explanation. One thing about Viktor was that he was a stubborn kid who does not know the difference between _safe_ and _dangerous_.

Reality hits hard soon enough for their little makeshift family. As soon as Viktor saw someone else’s blood drawn by his own reflexes and spur-of-the-moment decision, he began to withdraw from everything he grew up with and caged himself inside his room. Lilia thought it was prudent to leave him be for a while but not without surveillance. They had not known the extremes of Viktor’s behavior until that very day. He had thrashed, yelled, and shunned everyone away but it was Yakov who always pulled him back together.

 _You defended yourself_ , he said, _that’s more than okay. You had no intentions of hurting anyone, merely saving your own ass from being killed. Anyone in your situation would have done the same, believe me._

Then, the boy was reduced to a sobbing, nightmare riddled mess.

The first time Viktor held a gun, Yakov was beside himself when he watched with baited breath as the boy – now a young teenager – took his time adjusting his aim and fired his first solo shot towards the paper target. It was off the mark by an inch but the shot was made with ease and Viktor had prepared himself with the harsh recoil of the gun.

He still had nightmares, a year after the incident, but the child was resilient if not strong. He was able to withstand the plagues of his mind now and more than what his small body could take.

Yakov could not be any prouder and yet he feared for the future with how natural the boy was with that deadly weapon. Perhaps, their fates are sealed from this day forth.

 

 

**6.**

“Have you brought your best Oxfords?” Lilia calls out from the kitchen. Her willowy form is still as graceful even when taking her steps.

Viktor turns to her, eyes bright and determined. She taught him to face his conversation partner when they are talking to him and to answer promptly as a sign of respect. “Yes, it’s already in the travel case.”

“They are going to give you the best suits?” It does not sound like a question but the tailors were a recommendation from the ex-sniper herself. Sleek, accentuating, tasteful, yet practical and versatile. She was never displeased with their products. Viktor will forever be grateful to her for years to come.

“Yes, they tailored it to my specifications.”

“And the cutleries?” Lilia’s favorite topic. Of course, she will ask about the cutleries.

There was never a day in which both of them would not go about the topic. From acquiring, shopping, handling, and care, Lilia have taught him the art of holding these items with much poise and maneuverability that he even passed her most difficult test.

A promising child, she said. He will be indomitable.

“They will arrive along with the suits. All brand new.”

“Make sure to polish them clean before and after use. I did not teach you table manners and etiquette for you to become a messy eater.”

There were times when Lilia would discipline a young Viktor for being such. What can he say? Food is food. He had never tasted such flavors when he was still out in the streets. Yakov and Lilia did let him have a taste of a carefree childhood when they give him everything he desires but, slowly but surely, they integrated rules and limitations within the household. Viktor does not mind and he understands. He is growing up now and, if he wants to make a break in this line of work, then he must know the rules of the game first.

“I’m not sure if both of you are talking about his dining habits or his sniping skills.” Yakov emerges from the stairs. A small amused smile is present on his lips as he gazes at his wife and then at Viktor.

“It tackles both.”

“Don’t worry. I got everything crammed up in here.” Viktor taps his temple and signifies that all the knowledge and skills they taught him are intact in his head.

“Mm. Then, cram this in your head as well.” The man passes a folder in Viktor’s awaiting hands, not any more worried what Viktor will do with it. The younger man flips the folder open and skims through the pages with concealed eagerness. “Every detail you need is there. Research has been thorough.”

“Yeah, but they did not research everything,” Viktor chuckles. “They forgot to include their orientation and sexual preferences.”

Yakov suppresses the urge to plant his face on a nearby wall. Of course, Viktor is on that certain phase of his life. Clean up would be a hassle but this is nothing compared to his internship where he blew a couple of convertibles up in the middle of a crowded park just to cover his tracks.

“That’s not their problem, is it? Besides, you can deal that one out yourself.” Viktor might describe Yakov as an uptight teacher but sometimes, he can say things that give the young man crazy ideas much to Lilia’s irritation.

“Don’t teach him to play with his food,” Lilia warns her husband, already pinching his ear for that careless comment.

“I’m not – Lilia…!”

“Of course, Lilia. I won’t.” Viktor laughs out loud at the couple’s antics before finally grabbing his bags. “Alright then, I’m going. I’ll be back soon. You’ll know when I’m done.”

 

 

**7.**

“Like father, like son.”

“Hm?”

“He said the same thing as you did whenever you go.”

“Hmm, he is not my son and he knows not to disobey you. You can be pretty scary when you are displeased.”

“It’s a given. Anything dishonorable is unsightly. At the very least, he should acknowledge his opponents’ strengths and give them a proper, clean end.”

“Then, I don’t have to worry about him.”

“No. You should be. You keep on tolerating his frisky attitude which results to him letting his guard down on certain occasions. As his handler, you should remind him to not underestimate anyone.”

“As I always do. At least, I don’t play with my food.”

“What are you saying? You sure did in your youth when you chased me after half across the globe but for what? To steal my target and to trap me into having a partnership with you?”

“Lilia! It was necessary and I already apologized for that.”

“Not enough apologies can bring my prey back to life. It was supposed to be the crowning glory of my career but you took it.”

“Lilia…”

 

 

**8.**

It has been years since they both saw their adoptive son, the little boy they sheltered from the cold who is now a fully grown man standing regally in front of them. Both of them knew his accomplishments, thanks to Yakov’s pool of information. They had been monitoring his growth in the field for the past decade and a half without Viktor knowing but, as Yakov stresses time and again, Viktor is anything but a defenseless child. If Lilia had been more expressive, she would have tears springing from the edge of her eyes right now.

They exchange pleasantries and settle in a private nook of a restaurant somewhere in the city where they dine like a normal family. Stories are told and recounted; there are more laughter and amusement in their little circle now that they have the chance to catch up.

But, before they move on to dessert, Viktor takes a deep breath and bravely makes a small announcement.

“Yakov, Lilia.” The couple looks up from their plates and stares worriedly at Viktor’s serious countenance. “I have urgent news I need to tell you. It is really why I invited you to dinner.”

Somehow, Yakov has a vague thought that this is another one of Viktor’s surprises the boy keeps on doing and, by surprise, it might have something to do with another one of his failed attempts in resolving a case or an employment gone wrong. Nevertheless, there is a monologue of scolding ready for him should it be needed and an array of support he can contact for Viktor.

Yakov tells himself that but he lets the boy – now a man but still a boy in his eyes – finish talking.

It takes a few moments, a couple of agonizing seconds before Viktor finally show genuine happiness.

“I’m getting married!”

 

Now, how was he going to lecture him on that?


End file.
